Renaissance man and TGG favorite, Terrell Hines couldn’t have released his sardonic yet harrowing single “We’re All Gonna Be Killed” at a more appropriate time. The first single since his August debut, Portal One: The Mixtape, “‘We’re All Gonna Be Killed’ is just me reflecting on how sinister humans can be,” Hines stated in a press release, “Nothing is okay.”
Hines doles out harsh realities cloaked in satire shortly after the eerie and stripped intro, exposing our collective naïveté over a frenzied beat: “It was so many designs, the whole world they computing / stuck inside the parallel, goddamn, we hyper-looping.” Reflecting on the beast that is 2020, the artist brings darkness to light via his crystal ball on the second and final verse: “I don’t do politics, it’s all lawless / this is titanium mixed with rawness / yeah, I’m back like I never left / told me to tell you that you need help / sinister leaders that follow scripts / just a head with a body and nothing else.”
Released with the single is a burlesque-style music video in which Hines portrays a caricatural master of ceremonies in a top hat and white suit, akin to the White Rabbit. Directed by Danielle DeGrasse-Alston, the video features Hines governing wrestling matches between children while a door, left slightly ajar, leading to the “Death Room” looms in the background.
In the outro, the artist gives an inauspicious albeit cheery farewell: “See you next week– same time same place, but the way the social climate looks, we may never see each other again.”
London-based 20-year old songwriter, Sarah Meth, released her debut EP, Dead End World, last week. Consisting of just four songs, the EP was written over three years ago. “Dead End World is an EP I wrote during my teenage years, so naturally the lyrics are more centered around trying to make sense of the near-adult world around me, as well as who I was at that age,” the artist said of the project. Dead End World is a showcase of Sarah Meth’s confounding songwriting abilities accompanied by exquisitely assembled instrumentals.
Similar to the illusory experience of waking several hours before the sun on an early Sunday morning, the EP’s intro, “If Only You Knew,” leaves you in a fog, feeling somewhat isolated yet hopeful for the day’s potential. The song’s hazy layers of brass and strings interwoven with Meth’s lush vocals will find you wandering through daydreams without haste or any desire for grounding.
The EP’s title track comes next, guiding us through our continued delirium. “Dead End World” is the disembodied hand poking through the fog, and because we’ve just been left in a daze, we blindly reach out to follow suit. Despite being written 3 years prior to the EP’s release, the song eerily and aptly portrays today’s societal climate: “I see hospitals surrender to people sickly thin / but those first in line don’t seem to bat an eye / because they have the money rolling in / and our friends, our friends are dying / because of the color of their skin / so we cry because the system just ain’t right / but the sirens aren’t sleeping tonight.”
“Tangled,” the artist’s latest single follows the title track. The song is a stripped, raw reminder that as easy as it is to give all of ourselves to another, self-love should always hold precedence. In a press release, Meth said the song is “really a ‘note to self’ about how easy it is to get knotted up in the way you feel. It’s meaning to me continues to change over time, but it’s a song that always seems to make sense when I come back to it.” Watch the artist’s intimate live performance of the song:
“What Does It Mean” is our reflective and groggy end to the lucid dream that is Dead End World. Written when Meth was just 15, the song examines community standards of womanhood. Throughout the brief, 3-verse song, we hear Meth navigating the familiar– sadly, often sordid– path from adolescence to adulthood in the position of a young woman: “What does it mean if everything I stand for / is betrayed by my greed to give myself away? / and so, I lose all of my dignity / have I failed to be / everything a woman should be?”
Fluttering about anxiously with bright-eyed optimism and breathless anticipation, Bea Bitter’s latest single, “Serpent,” perfectly encapsulates the drunken euphoria of plummeting down The Rabbit Hole of Something New. Similar to those colorfully winged vibrating insects, this song can be felt in the gut. The single’s bewitching instrumentation tells a story of its own– a bass-driven expedition, gracefully catapulting our vessel into an ocean of brassy swells with beautifully assembled elemental percussion navigating the route. “Serpent” is Bea Bitter’s Siren Song.
The single follows Bitter’s first solo endeavor, “Dopamine,” a melancholy song about coming to grips with the love lost over a relationship’s lifespan and the sudden sobering realization of what the self truly needs in order to be happy.
“I think ‘Serpent’ is almost the emotional antithesis to ‘Dopamine,’ in a way,”the artist told The Greater Good.“The song is about deeply wanting to be intoxicating and entrancing to someone in the way that they are to you— it’s all about longing and desire, whereas ‘Dopamine’ is about being stuck in a relationship that feels dull, muted, and suffocating,”she continued, “I think you hit the nail on the head, the lyrics for ‘Serpent’ were definitely inspired by those butterflies you get when you are absolutely infatuated with someone, and all you want is for them to see you the same way.”
I asked the artist about the trials and tribulations she’s experienced while being a young maverick in the industry, to which she responded, “I would say being an independent artist comes with restrictions in the way you can make your ideas become a reality when it comes to resources.” She continued, “It can feel lonely and a drudge in the worst moments, but those are the moments I try not to dwell on.” Keeping your circle full of those whose energies rejuvenate and inspire is of the utmost importance to help stave off the looming malefactor for any creative– burnout. “I’ve found that by surrounding myself with artists of all mediums that I respect and admire, we as a community can create some really beautiful stuff that we can showcase and be proud of.” She continued, “I think it’s so important to build up and support the creatives around you— I mean some of my favorite artists are also my closest friends. I look forward to watching them grow and pursue their art and hopefully grow alongside them.”
The young artist has much more in store for the future– in addition to an upcoming stand-alone single, “Pocket Knife,” Bea Bitter is currently working with Max Colbert crafting and formulating her debut EP, aptly named The Lull Before the End of the World.
Charlotte Day Wilson has somehow managed to acquire the coveted recipe for sonic success, consisting of the following compounded elements: the emotive prose of a celebrated folk songwriter, unique vocal capabilities– unobtainable by us mere peasants– and equal parts both heart and soul. Whether the artist made a deal with the devil in exchange for her creative gifts is yet to be determined; Wilson steers her metaphorical wagon down her own musical lane, taking alternative routes to the final destination: The Feels. In this week’s continuation of Sad Girl Summer, we’re covering Wilson’s most recent release, a transcendental single two-pack: “Take Care Of You” and “Summertime.”
Produced by Wilson and Jack Ro, the singles are an auditory expedition, with whispering acoustic instrumentation progressing into layered and augmented swells. On “Take Care Of You,” Wilson is joined by Syd, best known as the front-person for R&B collective, The Internet. The song is a sobering plea for vulnerability and trust, a delicate topic to broach with any relationship flight risk.
Wilson balances coping with the detachment from a romantic partner and welcoming the almighty villains of interpersonal relationships: time and distance with “Summertime.” The track gives us a sample tasting of the specific breed of confusion often only found in love, leaving us in a mental fog long after the song’s breathy outro. The track is short, coming in at two minutes and thirty-two seconds, and begs to be repeated.
With a catalog chalked full of collaborative efforts with the likes of Daniel Caesar, BADBADNOTGOOD, and KAYTRANADA, the vocalist surpasses others in the game with a trained yet subdued passion and funereal gloominess. The singles come almost a full year after Wilson’s 2019 single, soulful and somber “Mountains,” which continues to be in TGG’s regular rotation. The artist has yet to release a full-length, so here’s hoping this dual drop is foreshadowing the artist’s album debut.
“When I see that I live off music, I sometimes say to myself, ‘Damn, little girl from years back, you really went on and did your shit.'”
With a sound accurately self-described as “smooth, like mango juice,” independent R&B artist K.ZIA prides herself on the ways that her Afro-European background permeates her sound. The artist traverses sonic standards and human emotion, cultivating songs like her latest, the delicate and soul-stirring “Damaged,” a track focused on one of the most difficult parts of human connection– knowing when to let go. The single follows disco-reminiscent “Goosebumps,” vastly different from the stripped, raw nature of “Damaged,” bringing to the foreground the artist’s versatility.
The uphill voyage of creating traction as an independent can sometimes feel insurmountable. K.ZIA is familiar with the amounts of work and time needed to be invested in order to feel accomplished in the music industry: “Being an independent artist is very hard. Especially when you are one that works alone,” she said, “I have to be the creator, the seller, the booker, the director, the administrator, the tour manager, the content creator, the patron… it’s a lot.”
With its own vicissitudes, the sense of accomplishment gained from having the ability to say “I did this on my own” can make certain goals seem a little more attainable and a little less intimidating. When asked about challenges she’s faced as an independent artist, K.ZIA says believing in herself and her art was a monumental step in the right direction: “I think it’s one of the hardest things in this industry. As an up and coming artist, fighting for something, and believing in your capacities and that you deserve a place somewhere is not always easy. I am grateful for my drive and determination.” She continues, “When I see that I live off music, I sometimes say to myself, ‘Damn, little girl from years back, you really went on and did your shit.‘”
K.ZIA released a visually stunning and poignant music video for “Goosebumps,” in February. Directed by Paulina Nurkowska, the video follows a tumultuous love triangle between three friends.
The artist fondly reminisces filming the video, saying, “What I particularly loved was the energy between the cast,” she continues, “So Georgette, Peer and Franz were three acquaintances (that are now friends) that I brought together and it just looked like they had been best friends for years. They directly clicked and a beautiful love story began naturally between them, without us even having to direct them or tell them about the dynamic much. Such a precious gift/shoot.”
When asked about the inspiration behind “Damaged,” K.ZIA said, “This song was written about 4 years ago. I was trying to get out of a very toxic relationship. There was a lot of love from the both of is, but there were also a lot of problematic things (co-dependency, lack of self confidence and projecting that on the other, lack of trust, lack of maturity, distance, expectations, language barrier etc.) Being young and with little experience, it was difficult for us to understand what was going on and especially, to let go of one another for the ‘greater good.'”
K.ZIA recently announced on Instagram that she’ll be releasing new music very soon. She told TGG, “I’ve written a few songs during quarantine,” and that a potential EP is in the works.
“‘Lost In Paradise’ was a specific vibe we produced based on the song I wrote about my life and experiences recently– feeling unsure about my future and not really enjoying myself in the city I live in.”
From Tulsa, OK, Whesli was met with a cultural shift when she moved to Los Angeles to pursue music. The independent songwriter released her soulful single, “Lost In Paradise” in June. The track is a wake-up call, with somber lyrics like “Guess I’m swimming in a shallow ocean/ My comfort don’t comfort me” and upbeat production converging to create a very specific breed of song– the type of song fit for your early morning drive to a new job on a beautiful summer morning, only to be met with stop-and-go traffic. Hopeful but anxious.
Sometimes, we miss something we never really had; the record’s homesick feeling isn’t directed towards Whesli’s hometown so much as a home she’s yet to find. When asked where the longing for familiarity on “Lost In Paradise” stems from, the songwriter told The Greater Good, “I wouldn’t even say that the song is about missing my ‘home,’ because sometimes I don’t even know where that is. But it’s just feeling like where you are right now isn’t ‘it.’ Just waking up and not remembering why you’re doing what you’re doing, in a place that can feel really cold at times, just feeling unsure about everything.”
The artist announced the single’s release on Instagram, crediting the likes of audio engineer Damien Lewis and producer Daniel Perback.
The record’s production is atmospheric of Sad Girl Summer. “We wanted it to have these warm vibes that reflect a lot of Los Angeles mixed with this underlying coldness and uncertainty a lot of people have living in big cities,” Whesli explains, “You’re around a lot of people but can still feel alone. And I had this feeling and idea for the song for a while, the verse and the chorus, but the song didn’t really click and come together until a pretty dramatic event made me almost lose somebody,” she continues, “which made everything else feel pretty insignificant in comparison to having this person in my life. That’s when I finished the pre-chorus, which basically is saying, all these other things in life are great and can be fun and all, but what really matters is you.”
Growing up as a preacher’s daughter, Whesli has always found herself around music. The artist spoke of her journey to her sound, saying, “I basically just fell in love with all kinds of music and digested any and all music that spoke to me. From there, the natural step was to pick up a guitar and try to see if I could imitate what I heard. And not long after, the music became an escape and a way for me to express my emotions and what was on my mind.” The artist picked up that guitar and performed a particularly lovely rendition of The Beatles’s “Blackbird” for her Youtube channel in 2015.
Whesli describes herself as “free spirited when it comes to my art. My journey, like many others, has consisted of highs and lows– trying to figure myself and my music out, but I feel very positive about where I’m heading.” We feel very positive about where this insightful songwriter is headed, too.
Listen to “Lost In Paradise” now and keep your peepers peeled for Whesli in the future.
Have you ever been driving to the store, minding your business, when you hear a song or certain formation of notes that transports you to a very specific point in your life and you’re met with a wave of memories or emotion? Always having had a fear of forgetting things, I began keeping track of these memories– curating a soundtrack for every year of my life for at least the last 10 years, and keeping journals specifically recounting the memories tied to each song. I like to call this time travel, but science likes to call it MEAM– music-evoked autobiographical memories.
Our memories have sensory triggers, and music is one of the most sensory forms of creativity– whether consuming or producing, the chances that you’re sitting still while doing so are slim. The ways in which music can engage numerous senses at a time is automatically stored in your brain at the time of its engagement. The limbic system, structures within the brain that directly correlate to emotion and memory, is activated when listening to music. There have been countless studies regarding the connection between music and autobiographical memory and why music can trigger certain emotional responses. There have also been studies which indicate mimicking your music selection with your mood– listening to melancholy music during times of turmoil– can provide comfort, which can aid in the healing process. The ways in which grief can manifest in the body are sensory effects to the cause just like the ways we engage with music are sensory effects to the cause. You see where I’m going here?
Music has healing properties, so I encourage those reading to tap into those parts that have been forgotten. Start small—no need to delve right into trauma– think about who you were a year ago, how have you grown? Sift through your library and find a song you remember enjoying this time last year. What kinds of emotions come to the surface and have those emotions evolved from their origin? I recommend sitting with it for a while and writing about what you’re experiencing. Is there a certain song or body of work that comes to mind for you while reading this? This is a call to embrace the elements of life that have brought you to this point, to gain a better understanding of the different components that create the whole.
As important as it is to reflect, it is equally important not to dwell on things that are out of our control or that we cannot change. As you dive into your library, it’s worthy of note that these are memories, and sometimes memory can be deceiving; each time you listen to a song, your neural catalog is updated, attaching a different memory to that song. Listening to Joni Mitchell won’t make your dog come back to life, but it might make you smile when you think about the times he’d stick his whole head out the window just so he could feel the sun on his face.
For Donna Missal, music was a generational inheritance; her father was a songwriter and musician who owned Shelter Studios in the 80s, her grandmother was also a songwriter. Missal released her second album, Lighter with Harvest Records, owned by Capitol Music Group, at midnight last night. Lighter follows the artist’s 2018 album, This Time. With Lighter, Missal walks us through her journey with a traumatic breakup. In an interview with Shania Twain (!) for Interview Magazine, Missal spoke about the album, saying, “I was concerned when I was writing the record, getting towards the end of the process thinking, ‘Is this what people need right now? Am I serving a purpose that I can stand behind?’ I realized that by being as vulnerable and honest as possible and putting my shit out there—that would probably be what someone needs more than anything else that I could offer as a person or as an artist.”
As we jump into Lighter, we’re met with the project’s first two singles, “How Does It Feel,” and “Hurt By You.” Both tracks give you a feel for what you’re to expect as the album continues: impassioned realizations of newfound independence and loss combined with vengeful lyricism and themes.
I’m sure we’re all familiar with just how ugly breakups can be; it can be hard to maintain humility or dignity after ending things, as jealousy, unaddressed trauma, and feelings of abandonment or guilt rise to the surface. On the booming ballad, “Carefully,” Missal makes an emotional plea for respect post-breakup. The artist belts with an overwhelming amount of fervor on the bridge, “The risk you convinced me to take / Gave you everything that I had / Now what’d you expect me to say? / When you let me slip from your hands,” bearing her bleeding heart for all to see. All I can really say about this song is “whew.”
On Lighter, we’re really being taken through the different stages of grief with tracks fueled by denial like “Best Friend,” and bargaining with “Who Loves You,” intertwined with tracks of acceptance, like heart-rending “Slow Motion.” The artist, with her heart on her sleeve, proves there’s beauty in vulnerability and the acknowledgement of human flaw.
Another stage of grief is anger, and let me tell you, there is plenty to spare on this record. The introspective and painfully cognizant “Let You Let Me Down” and the intrepid sleeper hit “Just Like You,” are jaded displays of the bitter aftertaste a traumatic breakup can leave behind.
The project ends on a “to be continued,” as Missal’s grief persists with an admission of fear of moving on with the final track, “I’m Not Ready.”
To be quite honest, you don’t feel much lighter after listening to Lighter, so I would recommend checking your own emotional stability before jumping in the passenger seat of Donna Missal’s wild ride. Lighter is an exhibition of raw vulnerability while mourning a loss, and ultimately highlights the ways in which music can ease the healing process. 7/10
Elah Hale, 20-year old New York native released her debut EP, Room 206, with Interscope in April. “Room 206 was my sophomore dorm room in college,” the artist said in an interview with DJ Booth, “There were so many moments in that room… I decided to sign my publishing deal; I agreed to work with my management. All the big milestones happened in that room, I wanted to honor that time.”
The project begins on a swell, with “Saab,” which is exactly the kind of song you’re likely to find yourself walking down the street to, with your headphones on and the sun on your face, just to have you reminiscing an experience you might have never even had. The intro is brief– less than two minutes long– but foreshadows the roller coaster ahead of us.
The EP continues the trend on an emotional upswing with the lightest track on the project, “My House.” The artist has said of the track, “It’s the true ‘fun’ song, and I feel like I haven’t done a fun song ever.” Keeping up the fun, the artist released a particularly amusing music video for the track, where she’s seen flirting with a mannequin on a tennis court, clumsily waxing her legs and drinking wine in a bathtub with not a jewel out of place.
The cornerstone to any good project with purpose is its variety and flow, its peaks and valleys; with every optimistic incline, a soul-stirring decline inevitably follows. With Room 206, our decline begins with the poignant “Impatient,” a synth-heavy and somber track on which the artist contemplates clinging to a love with which she’s quickly losing her grip. The misleading sanguine beat in conjunction with impassioned lyrics like, “I’m on my knees, I swear that it’s the right time,” will indeed have you coming back for a second helping of agony.
Room 206 makes the transition from decline to a slow and smooth incline with ease, flowing into the next track, “Posters.” This bedroom-pop track addresses a common practice among daters: ghosting.
The artist’s lane of R&B is that of a melancholy tone; on particularly somber tracks like “one star rating,” “Way Down,” and “Holding You Close,” the artist ruminates on teetering the line between being all in or nothing at all with a diminishing love. On the latter track, over a slow but stimulating beat, the artist solemnly comes to terms with a love lost, manifesting her own healing and declaring her own downfalls. With stunningly interwoven harmonies, she croons, “I think it’s time that I just let you go,” the heavy track ignites a slow burn that lingers long after the song ends. Watch the artist perform the song in an intimate live studio session:
Room 206 ends like it begins–a full circle event– on a sonic incline. Self-reflective “ITPA” drifts into a slow plateau with bittersweet “Gentle,” closing out this project with charm and polish, wrapped in a neat bow. 8/10